


Miss You Already

by AnnieSoFar



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cancer, F/F, This is the most painful thing I've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 01:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6218782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieSoFar/pseuds/AnnieSoFar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beca was scared of losing Chloe, more than anything. Chloe wasn't scared of dying, she was only scared of leaving Beca behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miss You Already

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't post this without a nod to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OC1dAC9N608 , a lovely video edit on which this story is based. Thank you so much for reading, and please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments!

It’d been five years.

Five years since she confidently strode into the campus radio station, walked straight into the booth, pulled the headphones from Beca’s ears and told her they both needed to unwind, and that they should get a drink.

Five years since Beca had drank one too many tequila shots and has devilishly asked her if this was a date, and she had nodded, a small grin playing on her lips she replied that yes, this  _ was  _ a date.

Five years since that first date, that first drunken kiss that made her heart swell and her head spin, that first feeling that maybe she deserved better than everyone who’d ever screwed her own before and Beca had thanked her for a wonderful night and said ‘I’m really glad you asked me out.’

It’d been four years since she first told Beca she loved her, and Beca said it back without any hesitation.

It’d been three years since they moved in together, into a shitty little apartment in downtown Hollywood, with a broken faucet and leaky shower but none of that mattered because it was  _ theirs. _

And they were together.

It’d been 2 years since they moved out of the shitty apartment into a nicer one, in a better neighbourhood, after Beca got her first recording contract, and she bought her a cake that said ‘Congratulatons” because the decorator made a mistake.  

Two years since Beca had laughed sweetly, licking frosting off her finger as she declared it was absolutely perfect.

It’d been a year since she started feeling…  _ Wrong. _

Six months since she saw a doctor at Beca’s insistence, because “You're only 26, you shouldn't be feeling so much pain in your back, you’re not a pensioner.”

Three months since they referred her to a specialist, who suggested an MRI scan after sharing worried glances with his colleague as he read her file notes and listened to her symptoms.

Back pain that grew increasingly worse during the night. Dizzy spells. Unsteadiness on her feet.

It’d been an hour since Chloe found out she was sick. Really sick.

Beca had held her hand and promised her that whatever happened that everything would be fine, that  _ they  _ would be fine, and that she loved her.

“Your MRI, you see this,” The doctor had pointed to the screen, to the scan of her spine and Chloe felt her heart stutter. “cephalopod like object that’s spreading down your spinal column; it’s a malignant tumour.”

And Beca’s grip on her hand had tightened impossibly and Chloe had shook her head slowly because this couldn’t be happening to her.

“Your cancer, is the result of-” The words had stopped processing in her mind and the single thought that kept reverberating around in her head was ‘Am I going to die?’

They had started her on chemotherapy immediately.

Chloe hadn’t been able to fathom the idea of death so soon. Leaving everything behind; her job, her friends, Beca. She had planned to grow old with Beca, to get married one day, maybe even raise a family with her, make a life with her. A life that wasn’t going to happen anymore.

It was Beca’s voice that pulled her out of her headspace, as they sat in the car ride home from the hospital, Beca’s hands gripping the wheel that little bit too tightly.

“Let me know if you need me to like, pull over- or anything- I, like if the chemo’s-” Beca gestured noncommittally and Chloe could hear the anxiety seeping into her voice.

At least she wasn’t alone in being scared.

“Do you think that prayers really make a difference?” Chloe had never been particularly religious; her family didn’t say grace at the dinner table, and she never went to Sunday School, and she had always considered herself as a skeptic when it came to the possibility of a higher power, but being told she had  _ at most  _ five years to live, that only 17% of people her age survived that long, had her questioning the existence of god. Chloe thought back over the last five years, about everything that had happened to her, to  _ them;  _ the dates, the ‘i love you’s, the apartment, the new apartment, the record deal _.  _ Five years suddenly didn’t seem so long.

Whether he was real or not, it couldn’t hurt to try.

“Oh-” Beca seemed floored by the the question, Chloe could tell by the way she blinked rapidly and her knuckles whitened a little more against the steering wheel. “Um… I- We don’t have to talk about it. You don’t have to.”

Avoidance was Beca’s preferred coping method.

Talking until her throat was sore, was Chloe’s.

“Maybe it’s just  _ being there  _ for someone that matters. Just being there. Like I was there for you.” Chloe looked over to Beca and hoped she too was remembering all of the moments they had shared; the good, the bad, the one where Beca had come home filled with unprecedented anxiety that she would never succeed, and Chloe had reassured her that she was ‘Beca ‘Effin Mitchell’ and that she could do anything she set her mind to and that she  _ believed  _ in her.

As Beca turned to look at her, Chloe was sure she saw the ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Yeah.”

 

\---

 

The first time Chloe was rushed into hospital was absolutely terrifying. 

She had woken up early one Saturday morning, the sunlight shining through the slats in the blind raising her from her sleep.

She had quietly slipped out of bed, as to not wake the lightly snoring brunette beside her, padding lightly across the floor towards their ensuite.

Beca was  _ not  _ a morning person.

She had gasped sharply, as she rubbed the sleep from the corners of her bleary eyes and noticed the hot, thick blood trickling from her nose and over her lips, dripping onto the tiles.

She remembered opening her mouth to call for Beca, remembered the taste of copper in her mouth from the blood.

Chloe didn't remember fainting.

She didn't remember Beca frantically phoning for an ambulance with bloody, trembling fingers, that ended up throwing her phone across the room in a strange cocktail of frustration and anguish as the paramedic said they would be there in a time that Beca deemed ‘too slow’ as she held Chloe’s hand tightly and willed her to be okay, to stay alive.

She didn't remember the brunette carrying her down two flights of stairs to her car because  _ of course  _ their apartment was on the third floor and Beca hadn't trusted lifts after being trapped in one for three hours back in her freshman year, because Chloe didn’t have  _ time  _ for that.

She didn’t remember Beca practically screaming at the traffic, because  _ god damn it  _ everybody was just driving  _ so fucking  _ slowly, because she looked back and whispered countless apologies to a still unconscious Chloe for raising her voice, repeating over and over that everything would be okay.

She didn't remember Beca collapsing into a seat in the waiting room after they rushed her to the ICU, sobbing; as she raked her hands through her messy dark hair, with heavy, black eyeliner streaming down her cheeks; that Chloe didn't deserve this.

 

\---

 

When Chloe woke up, the first thing she heard was the steady sound of a heart rate monitor, beeping loud and incessantly. The second thing she heard, was a gentle knock. 

The first thing she saw was Beca.

“Beca?” Chloe was shocked at how raw and cracked her voice sounded, fervent and broken against her lips. It sounded foreign, strange and unfamiliar, but Beca’s smile reassured her that she had heard perfectly, and that she was still very much Chloe.

“It is- me” Beca replied softly, drawing out her words in a way that alerted Chloe to the fact she was nervous about something. A small giggled relaxed her however. “How are you feeling?”

Beca came and sat down beside her, holding her hand as Chloe rolled her eyes. “You’re right. Dumb question.”

Instead she told Chloe about work. About how her boss, much like her old internship boss back in Atlanta, still didn’t know her name, but she didn’t care because she  _ loved  _ her job and she was getting to record with ‘someone I can’t disclose yet, but on the downlow-” and she mouthed  _ Justin Bieber  _ and Chloe giggled because the way Beca’s eyes lit up and her voice became so animated when she talked about work, made Chloe’s heart warm, and she listened eagerly.

Beca held her hand when a team of doctors entered and one of them asked Beca to vacate the room as he had some news for Chloe.

Chloe asked her to stay.

Beca held her hand as the doctor told her the cancer in her spine had spread to her brain; Chloe noted the way her grip tightened unwittingly.

The doctors told her her life expectancy was now between 18 months and 2 years.

She was going to die.

And it was going to happen, soon.

After the doctors left, Beca held Chloe as she sobbed, for the first time since she’d gotten sick. Her chest heaved and her throat burned and her eyes stung, and Beca still held her, stroking her hair and whispering that she loved her over and over and over until Chloe’s sobs subsided hours later.

And as Chloe finally felt herself drifting off to sleep, she mumbled a weak. “I love you too.” before the depths of sleep dragged her under.

 

\---

 

The first time they fought,  _ really fought,  _ since Chloe’s diagnosis was painful.

“I’m sorry if I’m not saying the right things, I’m really trying.” Beca said with a pained expression that made Chloe’s stomach turn, because no, she wasn’t saying the right things, at all.

“For sure not.” Chloe contradicted, a frown on her lips as she shook her head slowly, never breaking eye contact from Beca.

“I’m here to help you Chloe, I’m  _ trying  _ to help.” Beca insisted, and Chloe was suddenly struck with the feeling of being a burden. The idea had crossed her mind before; every time Beca drove her to and from her hospital appointments, when Beca had taken time off from work to stay at home with Chloe when she was too sick to go out, every time her headaches and nosebleeds kept her up at night in excruciating pain, and Beca sat up with her, rubbing her back soothingly and kissing her forehead until it subsided.

“I am  _ not  _ what you need.” It hurt her to say it, a real, physical pain appearing in Chloe’s chest as she spoke because she  _ loves  _ Beca, so  _ so  _ much, and somewhere inside, she  _ knows  _ she’s trying her hardest to cope with this mess of a situation. But she’s right, Beca doesn’t need this. Beca needs to produce for Justin Bieber, and progress and get better at the job she loves. She needs to have her talent recognised by the people that matter, because Beca works damn hard on her music and she deserves every bit of recognition. Beca doesn’t need to be driving Chloe to the hospital every other day for check ups and appointments and emergency rushes to the ER. Beca doesn’t need to be taking time off work, when her work is the only thing that makes her eyes light up, and is so incredibly important to her. Beca doesn’t need Chloe.

And when Beca shook her head softly, Chloe wondered whether she was agreeing, the shake indicating that she didn't need this, or not.

She’s not.

Because Chloe was and is  _ exactly  _ what Beca needs.

 

\---

 

The next day the hospital called and asked Chloe to come in for a talk, later that afternoon. Whatever that meant.

And she told Beca, who was  _ just  _ on her way to work, that she would be fine taking the bus,that she really didn’t mind, because there was no way Beca could cancel on her boss  _ again,  _ at such short notice.

And Beca rolled her eyes and told Chloe she was being ridiculous as she pulled out her phone and immediately called her boss, stating that she wouldn’t be into work because Chloe needed her, before hanging up and asking “What time do you need to be there?”

And as Chloe had replied, telling her she needed to be there for two o’clock, Beca pulled her into bone crushing hug, the type that were usually Chloe’s forte, and whispered that she would always be there, no matter what; Chloe was her first, and only priority.

So, as they walked, hand in hand, into the hospital, Chloe didn’t feeling so guilty anymore.

Until they sat down in the doctor’s office, and he tilted his head and regarded Chloe with a pitying face and said “Unfortunately, we’re running out of options.” and the sickening feeling in Chloe’s stomach returned tenfold.

She felt Beca’s hand, which had been resting supportively on thigh, tighten it’s grip and the only thing Chloe could ask was “How much longer?”

The doctor explained it was difficult to estimate due to Chloe's lack of response to treatment but due to the aggressive nature of her cancer, she might only have a few more months.

In the past three weeks, Chloe's life expectancy had dropped from a healthy 50 or so more years, to 5 years, to 18 months, to 6, if she were lucky. Chloe didn't know what scared her more; the fact that her inevitable death was gaining on her, getting closer and closer and could strike at any time without warning, or the fact that she had already started to let go.

She had sold a bunch of her books online, she had headaches too frequently to be able to concentrate on reading them properly anymore and there were people out there who would at least put them to good use. She gave her treasured electric piano to Aubrey, insisting that the blonde could do with something other than paperwork to do in her office at the retreat. She had already started saying goodbye, resigning herself to fact that some people, she probably wouldn't see again.

The only thing she couldn't bear to let go of was Beca.

 

\---

  
  


Chloe was rushed into hospital  _ again  _ two days later.

The day had started normally, Chloe had woken up early with another migraine, nothing unusual there. She had made Beca breakfast and sipped black coffee until the brunette emerged from the bedroom, looking suitably disgruntled and bleary eyed for a weekday morning, until she clocked Chloe sitting at the kitchen table, and her expression morphed into a wide smile and she slid into the seat next to Chloe, planting a loving kiss on her forehead as she exclaimed that Chloe really shouldn’t have made her breakfast,  _ again.  _ Chloe beamed and replied that she didn’t mind one bit.

Beca had left for work, but not before she reminded Chloe that she would be back at six, but if she needed  _ anything  _ in the meantime, all she had to do was call and Beca would be there as soon as she could. And Chloe had rolled her eyes, stating that she would be  _ fine  _ as she kissed Beca goodbye and handed her the car keys from the hook beside the door, telling her if she didn’t hurry she would be late.

She had waved Beca off from the window, before sinking down onto the couch, wondering what she should do with her day.

She ended up calling Aubrey and before the words ‘How are you?” could leave the blonde’s lips, Chloe interrupted and  _ insisted  _ that they talk about anything but her, and how she was feeling. So Aubrey told all of the anecdotes from the retreat, including a particularly riveting story about an old corporate CEO getting trapped in one of the hidden nets that reminded Chloe of the time she and Beca had argued on their own visit to the retreat, and then of that moment afterwards, where after the impromptu singing around the campfire, Beca had pulled Chloe aside, away from prying eyes and ears, to tell her she was sorry; sorry for lying, and not trusting Chloe, and that she hoped Chloe would forgive her.

And Chloe smiled and shook her head endearingly, because Beca had already been forgiven from the moment Chloe had pulled her up off the ground, helping her untangle all of the rope and netting.

Beca didn’t need to ask.

Aubrey always managed to lift Chloe's spirits, with her brash honesty and her father’s nonsensical sayings that had Chloe in stitches whenever she heard a new one from good ol’ Mr Posen. Chloe felt a lump in her throat when she realised she would probably never see him again. She didn't mention the doctor’s new prognosis to Aubrey, not wanting to place any stress or worry on her best friend, she'd done enough of that to Beca. She felt sick to her stomach, pain twisting inside her like a white hot knife, at the idea that she might never see Aubrey again either.

And on that thought, she told Aubrey she had some things to sort out and that she had to let her go, and the blonde had reluctantly agreed, insisting that Chloe call her tomorrow. Once safely away from her phone, which she had discarded onto the coffee table in the sitting room, she curled up in bed, trying to think of everything  _ but  _ the idea that she could die tomorrow, without really remembering the exact qualities of Aubrey’s face. Or Beca's, for that matter, though she saw the brunette much more frequently. The fact she could die, and Aubrey would still be hundreds of miles away.

It was dying she thought of when the excruciating pain hit after she had slept for god knows how long, stabbing up and down her spine like tiny daggers, sharp and precise. Her body hurt  _ everywhere  _ and as she tried to call out, for someone,  _ anyone;  _ all she received was a mouthful of blood, which had suddenly began pouring from her nose as her head pounded. She tried again to scream out for Beca, but the only sounds that left her bloodied lips were rough, raw sobs of complete agony and it was all she could do to just lie there, screaming and sobbing and praying to a god that she didn't quite believe in not to let her die, until Beca came home and could be with her.

Beca walked through the door only 7 minutes later, dropping her keys, her bag, her phone,  _ everything,  _ as soon she heard Chloe, screaming and crying and begging for  _ someone  _ to help.

She sprinted to their bedroom, skidding and nearly falling on the laminate floor in her panic driven haste. She rushed to Chloe's side, her hands hovering over her, trembling manically, as she took in the sight of her girlfriend, whose face and chest were covered in blood, and was writhing in agony, her hands making fists in the sheets.

Chloe's chest heaved as she sobbed, the pain increasing by a hundredfold as Beca picked her up, her hands already smeared with Chloe's blood, whispering “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” Again and again and again as she carried her down those two flights of stairs and out to the car, laying her as gently as she could across the backseat. Beca broke the speed limit approximately twenty times on their way to the ER but the inevitable speeding tickets didn't matter because Chloe was in pain, and the only thing she could do to help was get her to the hospital.

The first time Beca cried that night was when the doctors lifted Chloe, still writhing and sobbing, onto a stretcher, the first tear rolling down her cheek as she watched two nurses strapping Chloe's arms into restraints to stop her from accidentally injuring herself, or anyone else.

More tears came as she tried to follow the doctors, but a nurse held her hand up and said she needed to stay in the waiting room, and that someone would come and fetch her when they could, and so she sank into one of those god awful, uncomfortable waiting room chairs, and before she knew it she was overcome with sobs, hot wet tears leaving tracks down her cheeks.

Nearly four hours later, Beca had just drifted off to sleep, curled up in her chair, her head resting on her elbow, when a young nurse holding a clipboard called out “Beca Mitchell?” and Beca’s eyes snapped open and she sat up straighter and the words “Any news?” spilled from her lips, her throat burning from dehydration and fatigue.

The nurse shook her head. “Go home Miss Mitchell, it's going to be a long night, and Miss Beale’s condition won't be improved from you being here. Get some rest and come back in the morning.”

And Beca had opened her mouth to argue, but she was cut off. “If Chloe’s state deteriorates in any way, we’ll call you. Now go home.”

So she drove home, her knuckles turning white from her vice like grip on the steering wheel, as she forced herself to breath steadily, and reign in her emotions until she got home.

The dam burst as soon she she’d shut the door to their apartment, tears streaming down her face as she was wracked with great, heaving sobs that made her throat feeling like it was on fire. She slammed her palms against the door; a small, twisted part of the brain relishing the pain it brought because Chloe was in  _ so much  _ pain and Beca felt nothing. She was angry,  _ so  _ angry, because Chloe; good, sweet, kind, honest Chloe; didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to be strapped to her hospital bed for her own  _ safety.  _ She didn't deserve to be given six  _ goddamn  _ months to live because she had  _ so  _ much to live for. She had worked in their local library whilst to waiting to hear back from colleges about her master's degree applications; she was gonna study Music and Education and then train to be a teacher, and Beca  _ knew  _ she would be the best music teacher Los Angeles had ever seen. Chloe didn't deserve  _ this. _

Her nails dragged slowly down the door, her fingers clenching around air as she sank to the floor, her breath heavy and laboured as she finally let her pent up emotions out, and she rested her head against the door, the only thing keeping her steady.

Because Chloe was sick,  _ really  _ sick.

And Chloe would die. She  _ knew  _ she had to accept that.

But Beca didn't know what she would do without her.

So she did the one thing that always managed to make the impossibly awful seem that slightest bit better; She called Aubrey.

With a voice still thick with tears, Beca told Aubrey that Chloe had gotten worse, much  _ much  _ worse, and that she didn’t have long left, and that she didn’t know what to do. And with a shaking voice that Beca knew from her year as having Aubrey as her captain, was the one she used when trying to pretend she was calm, Aubrey assured her that she would be on a flight to them as soon as she could, and that everything would be okay.

Beca shook her head, despite knowing Aubrey couldn’t see because  _ no. _

Everything would  _ not  _ be okay.

 

\---

 

The first, and only time Beca had walked out, actually  _ walked out  _ on her, Chloe realised heartache was more painful than any cancer.

Beca had slammed doors and screamed, as she gestured widely towards her, that she couldn’t do this anymore, her face red and her expression pained; and Chloe had laughed incredulously, so hard her chest started to hurt, because  _ she  _ didn’t have a choice.

“Do you realise you’re  _ furious  _ at me for being  _ sick?”  _ Chloe retorted, tears blurring her vision as she stared Beca down, her heart racing with all the heightened emotions.

“You wanna know what it is?” Beca had replied instantly, her voice lowering, so that she was no longer shouting, merely shaking with an emotion Chloe couldn’t quite place. “Every time I see your face it kills me, okay?” She was halfway out of the front door, jacket in one hand, car keys in the other when she turned back to Chloe, whose feet were frozen to the spot where she stood in the hallway. “Is that enough of a reason?” she called back to Chloe, tears in her eyes as she slammed the door shut behind her.

Only when she heard the roar of Beca’s engine coming to life, and the telltale sounds of her driving away, did Chloe allow her tears to fall, wondering internally whether she should be worried about the stabbing sensation in her chest, or whether it was simply what it felt to have her heart broken.

Because the one good thing in her, now painfully short, life had just walked out of her front door.

Beca came back a few hours later and the sound of her key scraping in the lock had the hairs on Chloe’s neck standing up, her stomach churning in anticipation; she was  _ so  _ tired, too tired to cope with another argument. Maybe Beca had just come back for her stuff? Maybe she had forgotten her phone, or wallet, or  _ anything. _

The brunette tentatively knocked on the already open door to their bedroom, and Chloe could see the mascara smeared tear tracks running down Beca’s cheeks, even in the dim night of the twilight.

“I'm sorry I got- scared” Beca said quietly, hanging her head in shame, tears spilling from her eyes as she hovered in the doorway. “I needed to come  _ home  _ and tell you-”

“Please don't go.” The plea had left Chloe's lips before she could even try and stop them, and in any other situation she would've winced at how desperate she sounded, but in that moment, all she could think about was how much she needed Beca to  _ not  _ leave again.

“No,  _ no!”  _ Beca shook her head as she rushed forward to kneel on the bed in front of Chloe, who sat crossed legged, taking the redhead’s hands in her own, which Chloe noticed were trembling. “ I wanna be with you, I-I-”

“I'd like it if you stayed.” Chloe breathed, and Beca stared at her, wide eyed, for a moment, before nodding gently, shrugging out of her jacket which she discarded on the floor, to gently lower herself down, as Chloe did the same, and Beca wrapped her arms around Chloe's waist, pulling her close as she pressed feather light kisses to the bare skin of her shoulder, whispering that she was sorry and that she loved her.

And in that one moment, Chloe felt at peace.

 

\---

  
  


Aubrey arrived the next day, sunglasses in one hand, her suitcase in the other, regarding Chloe with a distained frown as she opened the door. “You should’ve told me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Chloe replied softly, sighing to herself as she stepped aside to allow Aubrey into the apartment.

No sooner than Chloe had shut the door, Aubrey flung herself at Chloe, squeezing her into a bone crushing embrace that was long overdue, pressing her face into the redhead’s hair as she held her close. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Aubrey knew Chloe was going to die; she had watched Stacie study long and hard for her medical school exams, and in the process, had learned a lot about various types and stages of cancer, and their life expectancy. It seemed somewhat poetic, in the darkest sense, that the subject of her girlfriend’s pop quiz was now her best friend’s life.

She also knew Chloe; knew her passion and her spirit and her undeniable  _ love  _ of life. She knew that Chloe wouldn’t want her sympathy, wouldn’t want Aubrey to apologise, despite that being the only thing she wanted to say to Chloe; how  _ sorry  _ she was.

She knew exactly how Chloe would pull away from her, a small frown on her lips as she rolled her eyes and shrugged that it wasn’t Aubrey’s fault.

Chloe didn’t like feeling like an invalid, or being treated as such, and so instead of professing her deepest apologies, as Aubrey released Chloe from their embrace, she smiled widely, her eyes full of warmth and unadulterated love, and said, “ So what do you wanna do today?”

They ended up in a nearby coffee shop, Aubrey ordering a black coffee and a croissant for herself, and a sickly sweet concoction ending in ‘achiato’ and a white chocolate cookie for Chloe.

How’s Stacie getting on at med school?” Chloe inquired as she sipped her coffee, a smile spreading across her features as she tasted the sweetness.

Aubrey swallowed a mouthful of her own coffee, nodding eagerly. “Good! Her dissertation is due in soon, so as you can expect, she’s pretty stressed. Being so far away doesn’t help either.”

Chloe nodded understandingly; Stacie had been accepted into the best medical school in the country, Harvard University, which happened to be a whopping 1520 kilometres away from Aubrey, in Boston. She wondered how she and Beca would fare if they were faced which such distance.

“I’m sorry she couldn’t get away to come and visit.” Aubrey continued softly after a moment, “I know she’s desperate to see you.”

“Don’t apologise Bree!” Chloe giggled, taking a bite of her cookie. “I understand how busy she must be. You get to go and see her much?”

Aubrey’s face fell and she shrugged. “Not as often as I’d like. But it's only a couple of years. I was actually thinking about relocating to Boston, maybe open another retreat.” Aubrey joked as she shot Chloe a wink.

“Boston’s like a world away from here. Even further than Barden.” Chloe smiled sadly, the thought that Beca would be isolated from all of their friends when Chloe died, niggling at the back of her mind and gave her an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

Aubrey seemed to understand Chloe’s thinking, reaching across the table to clasp Chloe’s hand in her own. “I’ll still come and visit Chlo. I promise, I’ll make the time. I won’t let her shut herself away.”

Chloe nodded, a silent thank you to her best friend, as she really didn’t trust her voice in that moment.

“Are you scared?” Aubrey’s voice was quiet, and hesitant, her hand still resting against Chloe’s.

Chloe shook her head, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her chest as she replied, feeling like the answer she gave Aubrey was the first time she’d honestly spoken about it. “Not about dying. Not really anyway. I’m scared about leaving Beca. I don’t want her to be alone.” she replied softly, her voice laced with sadness.

“Oh Chlo… She’ll never be alone. Even if I have to drag her all the way back to the retreat myself, she won’t be alone, I swear.”

And with Aubrey’s words, Chloe didn’t feel so scared anymore.

 

\---

 

They’d been in bed when it happened; a sharp, stabbing pain hitting Chloe right between her shoulder blades so unexpectedly that she’d gasped, her back arching up, away from the bed as she felt the pain spread down her spine. Beca had sat up in an instant, her hand resting against Chloe’s arm gently.

“Chloe, are you okay?” Beca’s voice was low, laced with fear and concern as her eyes scanned Chloe’s body as best she could in the dimly lit room, for any sign of a physical injury.

And before Chloe could shake her head no, Beca had jumped out of bed and flipped on the lamp next to the bed, gasping as she stared, wide eyed at Chloe’s face.

The redhead reached up to touch her face, as best she could given the excruciating pain radiating through her body, her hand coming away crimson red, her head spinning at the sheer amount of blood coating her fingers.

Beca had called out for Aubrey in a panic, and the blonde had stumbled blindly into the room, her tired eyes widening in horror at the state Chloe was in. 

And the blonde had soothed Chloe on the car ride to the hospital, her head resting in Aubrey’s lap in the back seat, crying out as every bump in road causing agonising pain to shoot through her.

“It’s gonna be okay Chlo, we’re nearly there, we’re gonna get you some help.” Aubrey whispered urgently, smoothing the redhead’s hair, which was sticky with sweat, away from her face gently.

A single tear rolled down her cheek as; after Beca accidentally drove over a pothole, sending a jolt through the entire car; Chloe screamed out, between her sobs and cries, her face and limbs contorting in extreme pain.

“Fucking let me die! Please!”

Beca had slammed on the brakes as she reached the emergency room, desperately crying to anyone that would listen that she needed help, as Aubrey kissed Chloe’s forehead and whispered, her voice full of anguish and distress, that everything was going to be okay, and that she loved her.

Paramedics rushed to the car, armed with a stretcher and they helped Aubrey lift Chloe onto it, ignoring both hers and Beca’s pleas that it was Chloe’s  _ back  _ that was in such awful pain, and they were laying her on it.

As the doctors took over from the paramedics, spewing medical jargon that even Aubrey could barely comprehend, Chloe let out an agonising cry, her hands grasping at air she reached for Beca “Don't leave me, please!”

Beca reached out for Chloe, crying out her name as a doctor stepped in front of her and Aubrey, telling them assertively that they had to wait there, and Aubrey’s heart ached for both Chloe and Beca, as the brunette tried once again to follow Chloe through the set of ominous looking set of doubled that she’d been rushed through, crying out in a cracked, hoarse voice that she loved Chloe.

Aubrey held Beca as she cried, her own tears running down her cheeks silently as she sat on the edge of her seat, pure anxiety running through her veins as they waited for news.

And Beca ran her hands through her hair, making fists in her brown curls as she sobbed because Chloe was dying, Chloe was dying  _ right fucking now  _ and she was stuck in a  _ goddamn  _ waiting room and there was nothing she could do to help and  _ oh god,  _ Chloe was going to die. And it could be tonight.

Both Beca and Aubrey were on their feet when they heard the harsh, shrill noise of the flat line ringing out, seemingly amplified by their heightened fear and anxiety.

Beca urgently pushed her way through the double doors, Aubrey in her wake, barging past doctors and nurses and anyone in her way until she saw her,.

Through the tiny window, she saw a nurse rapidly cutting through Chloe’s shirt, discarding the scissors as soon as she was done, only for them to be replaced with a defibrillator. And Beca watched, her heart in her mouth, breathing heard as panic coursed through her, as they shocked Chloe,  _ again  _ and  _ again  _ and  _ again,  _ and Beca banged hard against the glass, ignoring the pain searing through her hands because  _ oh god  _ Chloe was dying.

And with violently shaking hands, a distraught, tear stricken Aubrey guided Beca away from the window, pulling her into her arms as they both sobbed, grievous, harrowing sobs that shook them where they stood.

Because Chloe was dead.  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
